


Dragon Riders

by ashleyadenine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Army Doctor John Watson, BAMF Sherlock, Dragon Riders, Dragon Sherlock, Dragonlock, F/M, Hurt John Watson, M/M, Protective Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyadenine/pseuds/ashleyadenine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe. Dragons. John is being deployed for the army and all army doctors are required to have dragons for protection. John doesn't want a dragon, never has, but something about the lightning drake everyone fears has him saving the creature from being killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

      John grumbled again as they made their way down the musty hallway. He wanted nothing to do with this, had tried to get out of it, but the army had insisted. As a doctor he would need something to watch his back, something to protect him when he was kneeling over an injured soldier.

     “Dragon,” John sighed. “Never thought I'd be here.” The greasy man in front of him was turning a large deadbolt on the third door they'd come too, his forehead gleaming in sweat.

     “Right in here sir,” he explained. “This is where we keep the ones strong enough for the military.” John stepped into the dank area, scanning the cages on either side of him. Dragons in various forms from ones that looked fully human to ones that were quite cramped in full dragon form littered the cages. The ones in this part of the facility were meant to have more of an attitude and power so most the dragons he passed were glaring obstinately at him. They came to the end of the row and he started to follow the man around a corner when something caught his eye. An obsidian scale glinted in the dim light and he followed the shape up to a pair of golden eyes that were staring back at him intensely.

    “What about this one?” John asked, when the man had skipped over him in his endless sales pitch.

     “That one? You don't want him,” the seller snorted. “He's gonna be put out of his misery next week. Trouble that one is.”

     “What's wrong with him?”

     “Fights orders constantly, fights handlers like the devil, plus that lightning blast of his definitely has some kick.” The dragon bared its fangs in a smirking leer if dragons could do such things, lightning crackling over his scales.

     “Speed?” John asked, moving closer to the bars to get a better look.

     “Sir, I beg you, you don't want to bother with this one,” the man tried again. John turned and glared at the greaseball.

     “I don't believe it is up to you what dragons are fit for the british army,” John snapped, posture straightening. “Now I asked you a question.”

     “Ain't seen nothing faster,” he relented. When John turned back around the dragon had come closer, allowing him to get a better look. It was almost cat like, sturdy but graceful and when the light caught the scales just right there was a purple sheen to the bottom arc of each scale. His golden eyes took in John as much as John was taking in him.

     “He's amazing,” John whispered. “I'll take him.” Greasy, as John was affectionately thinking of him as, groaned and went to fetch paperwork and some unlucky handlers.

     When the men finally returned, they were all wearing rubber gloves and sturdy jumpsuits. They carried long sharp poles and one man was drawing up drugs into a syringe. The dragon started snarling behind John, drawing back slightly into the shadows, but John could see the electricity rolling over its scales.

     “I really don't think this will all be necessary,” John argued as the men were suiting up. A large crate was rolled up to an opening of the cage and latched securely in place.

     “Ya have no idea wha' you're dealin' wif,” a man missing quite a few teeth snapped. “Lucky te be alive in the 'morrow,” he mumbled and went to his position by the cage door.

     “Please?” John pleaded. “Can I just try first?” They all looked to Greasy who finally nodded his head slightly.

     “It's your funeral,” he grumbled. John went to the human sized door, watching as one of the men unlocked it and opened it just enough for him to squeeze in. He stepped inside and immediately the door was slammed and locked behind him. The dragon was backed into a corner, electricity still crackling over his scales, but he simply watched John, no act of hostility...yet.

     “What's your name?” he asked gently, hands upright in a sign of peace.

     “He goes by Sherlock,” Greasy called from outside the cage and the dragon whipped its head around and let out a hissing snarl in the man's direction.

     “It's all right Sherlock,” John cooed. “Do you wanna leave this place? Go on an adventure?” The dragon's spiky ears lifted, looking alert and the lightning trickled to a stop. “You have to go in this box, but I promise you no more drugs and no more cage after that. You're going to live with me and we're going to go on an adventure.” Behind him he could hear a few of the men chuckling which had Sherlock glaring in their direction again. Haughtily he got to his feet, wings tucking against his side and tail swaying and moved smoothly into the box waiting for him. He curled up like a great big cat and for all intents and purposes went to sleep. The man with the missing teeth silently shut the big cage door and John turned to see everyone staring at him in disbelief. “Shall we fill out that paperwork then?” he asked, stepping out of the cage and past the handlers.

~*~

     By the time they finally made it to John's flat Sherlock was awake and getting quite cranky from being in the cage for too long. John could hear the electricity crackling over him and was getting nervous about opening the cage for the first time, but a deal was a deal. When the last delivery person left, he shut the door behind them and approached the crate nervously. He placed a hand over the big rusty latch and realized golden eyes were peering at him intently between the slats. He steadied his nerves and yanked the latch open. Sherlock burst from the cage, knocking John back onto the floor and whirlwinded around the living area finally stopping crouched over his new owner. He stared at him intently for several minutes, John not moving a muscle, then shrieked and went bounding to the back of the couch where he settled himself, one wing draping onto the floor haphazardly. John let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and pushed himself upright, taking in the sight of the dragon curled up on his couch. He didn't seem like he'd be moving any time soon so John headed for the kitchen intent on making a cup of tea and some food for himself and his new companion.

     He'd been clattering around noisily in the kitchen for a while when he realized he wasn't the only one in the kitchen any longer. He turned and about dropped his cuppa, mouth dropping in shock. A nude, tall pale man was standing in the doorway, dark curls grazing his forehead. He had two small curved horns nestled in his hair and a scattering of scales across his body. Two large leathery wings were curled almost protectively around his shoulders as he took a look around.

     “It's been a long time since I've been in this form,” he said in a rich baritone, icy blue eyes finally focusing on John. “Is there more food? I haven't eaten in a very long time either.”

     “Uh...of course!” John stammered, turning and fixing another plate. “I'll see about finding you something to wear too!” Sherlock had sat himself down at the table when John turned around again, thanking him as he sat the plate down in front of him. When John finally sat down with his own plate of food Sherlock looked at him carefully.

     “Afghanistan or Iraq?” he asked suddenly, eating another forkful.

     “How did you know?” John asked.

     “I remember you saying adventure, you're clearly army. Army requires their higher officers and medical professionals to have dragons these days. You're a doctor which is how you ended up with me, so where are we going? Afghanistan or Iraq?”

     “Amazing,” John mumbled.

     “What?” Sherlock said, looking confused.

     “That was incredible, how'd you know all that?” John stammered.

     “I can see it,” Sherlock said softly, eyes on his plate. “One of my talents I guess, seeing the truth.”

     “Well it was bloody amazing,” John complimented, gathering his plate up and depositing it in the sink. “I'm gonna see about finding you something to wear.” John dug for a while before finding a pair of sweats and a large t-shirt he expected would fit the dragon. He returned with the items and a pair of scissors, prepared to cut holes for his leathery wings. Sherlock took the items, yanking the pants on with a slight grimace and took one look at the t-shirt before abandoning the concept all together. “We can go get you some proper clothes tomorrow,” John promised. “Plus I'll have to take you by the base for inspection and to have you fitted for your own gear. We'll be leaving within the month for Iraq so we're kind of on a time crunch.” Sherlock nodded, dragging a blanket from the back of the couch over him as he curled up on the leather sofa. “Well... good night,” John said awkwardly, backing towards his own bedroom. John sighed as he shuffled into his own bed, 'maybe this won't be so bad after all.'


	2. Chapter 2

John woke to a woman's shriek and a horrendous snarl and went flying out of bed. “Damn it Mrs. Hudson,” he snapped as he went flying down the stairs. The woman in question was cowering on the floor at the base of the door and Sherlock in full dragon form was in the middle of his living room, wings fully extended and teeth bared in a snarl.

“Sherlock no!” John cried out, stepping between them. Sherlock stopped baring his teeth, but continued to growl, trying to peer around John at the elderly woman. John stepped closer, pushing against Sherlock's shoulder. As soon as his hands touched scales, the dragon snapped, pulling away from John's touch. He shambled off behind the couch, glaring back at both the humans as he grumbled and curled up on the floor, only his tail visible from behind his barrier.

“Mrs. Hudson you should probably go,” John finally turned and told her, offering a hand to help her up.

“What is that thing doing in my house?!” she demanded, pointing accusingly at Sherlock who smacked his tail against the floor in agitation.

“He's army issue Mrs. Hudson. I put it off as long as I could, you know I did,” John sighed, shuffling her towards the door. “We'll be out of your hair in no time.” She started sputtering, but John managed to get the door shut and locked before she could get anything else in. “You should probably change and get dressed,” John called to the dragon. “We'll have to get going soon.” Another tail smack was his only response as he headed to take a shower quickly before they had to report to the army base.

When John returned to the living room washed and clothed Sherlock was waiting in his half human form and had even managed to cut and tie the t-shirt John had left him to his needs. He looked bored but followed John out of the apartment and even managed to hail a cab when John's tries had failed miserably.

When they arrived at the army base John led the way to a large warehouse looking building and stopped at the desk to check in. Sherlock looked around, noticing a few other dragons nearby. Most of them were collared and chained, being led around like dogs by their masters. The ones that weren't looked so miserably beaten and depressed that had the opportunity to escape risen they probably wouldn't even have tried taking it. Sherlock found himself growling under his breath when John realized what his source of distress was.

“I don't like those things either,” John whispered. “Stay close and I don't think they'll try and make me use one on you.” Sherlock growled again, but followed John to the next room and stood at John's shoulder as the man sat filling out papers. People and dragons alike were watching him and looking at John and that annoyed Sherlock even further. His wings twitched, stretching and closing in agitation.

“John Watson,” a voice called suddenly. “And dragon: Sherlock.” Someone snickered and Sherlock spun, fixing a piercing glare on the snivelling dragon that had dared laugh at him.

“Come on Sherlock,” John said gently. “Forget about it.” Sherlock gave the dragon one last glare that made the other visibly shrink before turning and following John, wings unfurling slightly. As soon as they had stepped into the next room a man was beside him and grabbed one of his wings without warning or asking. Sherlock snarled, whipping the appendage away and knocking the man back.

“Get your dragon under control!” a voice barked from across the room, a man stepped forward, a beaded grey dragon beside him. The dragon bared its teeth at Sherlock in challenge that Sherlock accepted full heartedly, starting to move forward still in his human form.

“Sherlock!” John pleaded. Wings twitched and finally he stopped, slinking back to John's side and flopping to the floor with a huff.

“Dr. Watson,” the man greeted, shaking hands firmly. “I'm general Bowen. Found a fiery one I see.” Sherlock snarled under his breath, and John swore his hair stood on end with the electrical charge in the air. “My bad,” the general corrected, smoothing his arm hair down. “A lightning drake then.”

“His name's Sherlock,” John offered, standing at attention. “Just got him yesterday sir.” The general shooed the man that had grabbed Sherlock out of the room and circled the two slowly.

“I think you two will make a fine pair,” he finally said, stopping in front of them. “Dragon form please!” he demanded,taking a step back and placing a hand on his own dragon's shoulder. Sherlock grumbled, getting to his feet and unfurling his wings to full width.

“Please Sherlock,” John pleaded. “Just do what he's asking...nicely.” Sherlock grumbled, wondering again what made him want to please this army officer. A dark cloud gathered around him, seeming to flash lightning from within and then a cat-like shriek tore through the room and Sherlock burst out of the cloud, lightning crackling over his scales. He stood tall and proud, wings unfurled and glared at the grey dragon.

“Very nice,” the general complimented. “Large enough for riding, good musculature, strong wings. Shall we fit you for a saddle?” Sherlock snorted, looking back at John who shrugged.

“Wouldn't hurt to have just in case,” John reasoned. Sherlock visibly sighed, wings drooping.

“We'll at least get all the fittings for the harnesses and armor,” Bowen said, stepping closer to take a better look at Sherlock. The grey dragon made a noise of distress as he drew nearer Sherlock and the general shushed him. “We're fine Lestrade.” Lestrade sighed, wings stretching and closing. Sherlock looked bored, tail curling in a half circle around where John still stood. Suddenly the door burst open and a man came running in.

“Sir, sir, emergency!” John didn't quite know what happened at first except for suddenly it was quite warm. Sherlock was pressed against him, tail curled protectively and wing curved over him, snarling at the intruder who stood there smirking slightly.

“Test passed,” the general chuckled. “Very well done.” John turned back to the general, Sherlock reluctant to let him out of the protection of his wing.

“That was a test?” John demanded. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“We want to see that your dragon has some instinct to protect. It's hard to have a partner that has no interest in your safety whatsoever.” Bowen was scratching away on something on his desk then paged fitters to come measure Sherlock for his harnesses. “Looks like you found a good one John Watson.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

       The next several weeks passed in a blur, going for fittings, packing, and being detailed on their mission. Sherlock remained obstinate about anyone touching him which made fitting his harnesses quite difficult. He had been sulking in his dragon form more than human and had created quite the sizable crevice in the couch much to John's displeasure. The big ship out day came though with a sniveling Mrs. Hudson waving them off as Sherlock was loaded into the back of a truck in a crate, John clambering in after him. He watched the scenery as they drove, one hand pressed against Sherlock's crate. “It'll be a long time till we get back here,” he mumbled to the dragon who let out a puff of breath and smacked his tail against the floor.  
      When they arrived at the base they were instructed to report to the warehouse so John headed that way, Sherlock striding beside him in his new harnesses. The dragon's head was high, obviously preening in his shiny new harness. The straps blended into his hide well, the leather bags filled with the supplies they'd need. The only thing that stood out about him was the big red cross across a leather chest piece. When they entered the warehouse there were other men there, dragons with similar red crosses on their chest pieces. He saw his friend Mike Stamford from college and waved hello. A yellow dragon was sitting beside him and looked nervous at their approach.  
     “Mike!” John greeted, shaking his hand firmly. Sherlock drew up beside John, standing tall and proud and the yellow dragon sank back further.  
     “This is Molly,” Mike introduced, gesturing to the dragon next to him. “Had her about 3 months now. She's an earth dragon.” Molly refused to make eye contact with John and especially Sherlock.  
     “Well this is Sherlock,” John said, gesturing at the dragon beside him. “Lightning drake, been together a couple weeks.” Sherlock's hide crackled with electricity proudly, making Molly visibly cringe. Mike whistled in appreciation, taking in the dark dragon.  
     “He looks tough,” Mike said appreciatively.  
     “Won't let anyone touch him,” John sighed, glancing up at Sherlock who snorted in derision. “But he's passed all his tests with flying colors.”  
     “Can everyone line up please!” a man yelled out from a small constructed stage. A man in general's garb stepped up to the stage watching them all as they organized themselves.  
     “I am general Zane,” he finally called out when everyone had settled. “I am in charge of the dragon division of the army.” As he talked an obsidian dragon made its way onto the stage, settling itself in and staring down all the dragons lined up. Beside him Sherlock started to growl softly and John hushed him. “For the trip over your dragons will need to be in human form. We simply don't have the space to accommodate that many dragons in full form. You will be filtered through 3 rooms where your dragons will change and don their jumpsuits for the journey. Convene outside for our departure.” As they were dismissed Sherlock shoved his way towards one of the changing rooms with John jogging to catch up and offering apologies to people. As the door shut behind him John breathed a sigh of relief and flushed as Sherlock changed. His nudeness never bothered him so he walked without any show of shyness to gather the jumpsuit from a stack in the room.  
     “John,” he said after a moment, and John realized he had closed his eyes. Sherlock was standing right in front of him, blue eyes studying him carefully. The jumpsuit was on but zipped only to his navel, allowing a generous portion of skin and scale to show. “Are you ready?” John nodded, exiting the room with Sherlock following. They were boarded on the plane, Sherlock snarling when an officer tried to help with the straps and buckles. Finally everyone was aboard and the hatch closed with an ominous thud as a few dim lights flickered on overhead. John could barely see anyone around him and gave a shuddering breath. His life was about to change dramatically. He jumped when suddenly a hand touched his forearm gently. He looked over at Sherlock who's eyes were glowing slightly in the dimness. “We'll make it back.” Sherlock said simply and removed his hand back to his lap. John turned away but felt a thrill through him. Sherlock had allowed contact between them.


	4. Chapter 4

     John was going to go insane. He'd been cooped up in the base for a week working the hospital tent and he was about to scream from boredom. Sherlock followed him around helping where he could but even the dragon was getting tired of the menial tasks. One evening when it had been especially slow Sherlock disappeared for about an hour, coming back when the sky had darkened with a load in his arms. John stared at him quizzically, realizing he had his saddle and harnesses in his arms.

     “We're going for a ride,” Sherlock explained, dumping his things on the floor. “If I don't get out of here for a little while I'm going to burst.” John didn't even argue as Sherlock changed, picking up the harnesses and fitting them into place and tightening buckles. They exited the tent through the back, avoiding the security guards patrolling the main area and Sherlock kneeled to let John clamber unsteadily onto his back. He only had one arm to hang on with so he tightened his knees around Sherlock's sides nervously. The dragon chortled then burst into the air, gaining as much height as he could as quickly as he could. They cleared the clouds overhead and Sherlock leveled out, moving into a gentle rhythmic pace. John sighed as the cool breeze brushed his face, patting the side of Sherlock's neck.

     “Thank you,” he said softly. “For allowing me to ride you. I needed this.” Sherlock glanced back at him, golden eyes glimmering and made a series of whistling happy noises. They flew for another hour before Sherlock headed back towards the base, aiming for the back of the hospital tent. He landed smoothly, wings tucking against his side as John slid down, wobbling on his feet.

     “Where have you been?” a dark voice asked suddenly. General Zane came out of the shadows, his black dragon launching at Sherlock and slamming the dragon to the ground.

     “Sherlock!” John yelped. “We just went for a flight sir. I'm so sorry. We were just getting so bored in the medical tent.”

     “Moriarty heel,” General Zane called and the dragon backed off Sherlock, leering at him. Sherlock made a pained noise and John hurried to his side. There were several bite wounds across Sherlock's shoulder, oozing steadily. “See to it that you do not go on another one of your joy rides without express permission Watson.” The man left, snapping his fingers at Moriarty who followed in annoyance.

     “Come on big fella,” John encouraged, trying to get Sherlock to the medical tent. “I have to clean these wounds.” As they stumbled inside Sherlock changed to his human form, grasping at his shoulder painfully.

     “John,” he whimpered, and allowed the doctor to lead him to an empty cot. John quickly gathered supplies and started cleaning the wounds, making Sherlock cry out in pain as he scrubbed. When he was all cleaned and wrapped up he curled up on the cot, whining painfully. John hesitated only a moment before carding a hand through Sherlock's dark curls gently. His fingers traced the shape of horns then wrapped curls around his fingers making the dragon purr in delight.

     “Get some sleep,” John instructed finally. “We both need it.” Sherlock nodded, eyes already fluttering closed and John yawned before laying down next to the dragon comfortably.

~*~

     “John,” a voice was calling softly. He woke up with a groan, blinking up at the face of Mike Stamford. “What are you doing?” he asked, glancing at something right behind him. John started to sit up and was yanked back with a low growl. Sherlock was curled against him asleep, one arm draped around his middle. Molly stood behind Mike with a small smile on her face, hand at her chin like she'd been trying to cover it up.

     “We had an incident last night,” John explained softly, still trying to tug away from Sherlock's hold. “I had to bandage him up and we must have fallen asleep here.” Sherlock finally let him go, curling in on himself and wrapping a wing around his body.

     “Well I'm here to take over the tent, why don't you head back to yours before someone else comes in,” Mike told him, gathering up the spilled supplies from the night before. Molly who was a wisp of a girl in human form, hurried after him to help, giving them one last smile.

     “Come on Sherlock,” John grumbled shaking the dragon slightly. A low growl was his only response but he got up, sliding into his dragon form as he exited the tent, tail dragging behind him. The sun was already high in the sky as they shambled towards their shared tent and Sherlock collapsed into his nest of blankets with a thud. John climbed into his own cot, pulling the familiar blankets around him and passing out.

~*~

Several Months Later

     John grinned, flexing his fingers and looking up at Sherlock who looked equally pleased. He'd finally been cleared to go back out on missions, his arm healed. Sherlock was already in his harnesses and saddle, rocking back and forth in anticipation of getting to fly. John clambered onto Sherlock's back and they ran to the gate to meet the team heading into the field. There was only one other dragon team in their company and John was pleased to see that they were the only mounted pair. Sherlock tucked his wings against him, laying over John's legs and moved to stand next to the other dragon pair. He recognized the dragon as Anderson, a mottled green earth dragon. His owner looked longingly up at John, probably wishing he was allowed to ride his own dragon. They had been waiting quietly when another dragon stepped up beside them and John realized it was Lestrade, General Bowen sitting astride his back. “Move out!” Bowen called, smirking slightly at John. John smiled awkwardly back, adjusting his position in the saddle as Sherlock stepped forward. Lestrade and Sherlock both unfurled their wings and eyed each other in challenge. John gulped and Bowen smiled, patting Lestrade's neck affectionately. “Let's show these yellow bellies how to fly Lestrade,” he challenged. 

     Sherlock narrowed his eyes and suddenly they were shooting into the air, gaining altitude with Lestrade and Bowen right behind them. John gripped the handle tightly, but let out a whoop of delight as Sherlock climbed higher and higher, the distance between Lestrade and Bowen growing. Wings snapped open suddenly, scooping air then they were diving, flying past a startled Lestrade. Sherlock spun as they dived, making John dizzy and his heart race. They leveled out a hundred feet over the marching group below, drawing quite a few hoots and claps. A moment later Lestrade leveled out next to them, breathing heavily, he'd obviously worked hard to catch up to them. Sherlock let out a grunting chuckle and John patted his neck affectionately.

     “That...” Bowen breathed out heavily. “Was some damn fine flying.” John grinned, he didn't need told, he knew how amazing Sherlock was. Seconds later an explosion rocked the ground below them and panicked yells could be heard through the dust and debris.

     “Sherlock go!” John yelled, urging the dragon down towards the attack. Sherlock leveled out right above the cloud, scooping air and pushed towards it. The whirlwind of air was dispersing the cloud, making it so they could see what was going on. The enemy soldiers had created a sneak attack and were fighting hand to hand with many of their own team. Sherlock was looking around quickly, assessing, then went into a dive. John's hair stood on end as he felt the electrical build up then Sherlock was shooting an attack, taking enemies down left and right. A sonic boom went sailing past them and hit another enemy and John turned to see Lestrade and Bowen had joined the fray. Lestrade was an air dragon and his sonic booms were knocking people over as he created a more powerful whirlwind around them to push the rest of the dust cloud away. John focused back on what they were doing just as Sherlock slammed into the ground, whipping his tail around and taking out two more men as he shot an attack at another. John slid from his back, hurrying towards an injured comrade as Sherlock stayed close behind him. The man grabbed hold of John's arm as he reached him, his other hand pressed to his side where an arrow was protruding.

     “Help me please!” he cried, gripping the arrow shaft tighter. John nodded sharply, pulling his hand away and assessing the damage. Sherlock had already moved the bag he needed within reach and he grabbed his supplies quickly. The majority of the arrow shaft he broke off, careful not to jar the wound more. He gathered a wad of cotton and a pressure bandage and looked up at the man's scared eyes.

     “This is going to hurt, I'm sorry,” he apologized and before the man could protest he yanked the rest of the arrow out, pressing the cotton over the flowing wound tightly. The man howled, gripping John's forearm so tightly it hurt, but John ignored him, wrapping the pressure bandage around his abdomen quickly and efficiently.

     “Sherlock can you carry him!” John yelled up at the dragon. Sherlock shot another attack, smacked another man away then grunted, turning to help John push the man upright. The man looked scared to touch the huge creature but John urged him up, putting him in the saddle and instructed him to hold on to the handle. Sherlock was already attacking again and urged John away from the middle of the fray, keeping him protectively under his wing. The fighting was dying down as they neared the edge of the battle and John thought he saw Lestrade fly overhead, shooting a few more sonic booms. Another shadow and Lestrade landed in front of them Bowen sliding off and hurrying towards them.

     “The rest of them ran,” he told them, inspecting the man on Sherlock's back. “Transport is on its way for the injured. Looks like we won today.”

     The next few hours went by in a blur as John hurried around to his fallen comrades, fixing, bandaging, healing. Sherlock stayed firmly beside him, eyes still wary, but helping him lifting and moving patients. When the sun was starting to go down they were finally instructed to head back to camp. John was wobbly on his feet and leaned heavily against Sherlock as they made their way back. There were several packs strapped to the dragon's back and he was not entirely happy about being used as a pack horse, but he walked slowly beside John to help him along. As they entered the gates there was sudden cheering and a rush of soldiers came towards them, dragging John into the fray and smacking him on the back.

     “Took out the whole group!” someone yelled, smacking him so hard on the back he almost went down. “Destroyed all of them!” Sherlock was making concerned chirrups behind him, growling at men that were trying to pat him in congratulations too. “Never saw anything like it!” John smiled awkwardly, trying to make his way out of the group and towards his tent until finally Sherlock shoved through the group grabbing John by the back of his vest and lifting him away from the grasping hands. John flushed as men started laughing but was pretty happy about getting away. When they were near the tent Sherlock let John down gently, pushing him again.

     “I know I know,” John grumbled. “I'm ready for bed too.” John collapsed onto his cot, watching Sherlock stumble over to his nest and curl up cat-like. It didn't take long before he let exhaustion take him.

 


	5. Chapter 5

     John woke in the middle of the night to a low growl and realized Sherlock was crouched next to his cot, staring at a shadow on the side of the tent. A high pitched rasping chuckle came from the dragon outside his tent and an obsidian nose snuffled under the tent door. Sherlock let out the most ferocious snarling growl he'd ever heard come from the dragon and the obsidian nose withdrew, the rasping chuckle sounding again before the dragon slowly moved away.

     “Who was that?” John asked when the dragon was gone. Sherlock sighed, eyes closing as he shrank into his human form and John tossed his jumpsuit to him as he finished. Sherlock took his time pulling the clothing on then ran a hand through his curls.

     “Moriarty,” Sherlock finally mumbled, blue eyes glancing up at John. “He's very interested in me for some reason. I haven't yet figured out why.” John sat up and started as Sherlock climbed up beside him, pressing into his shoulder.

     “Thank you again,” John said quietly, trying to break the awkward silence. “For protecting me, for letting me ride, for everything.” Sherlock smacked John upside the head with a wing playfully, nuzzling into John's hair and snorting as the hairs tickled him.

     “If it wasn't for you I'd be dead,” Sherlock said simply as he drew away. He ran a hand through his curls again and got to his feet. “I'm gonna keep watch for a little while, go back to sleep.” He stepped forward sliding into his dragon form before John could say anything else and slipped out the door. John scratched his head in confusion but curled back up on his cot, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders.

~*~

     When John reported to the medical tent the next day Sherlock still hadn't shown up and he was growing slightly worried. General Bowen was waiting for him and John saluted before joining him. He sat on the cot across, smiling softly as he picked up a roll of bandage and started rerolling it.

     “What can I do for you sir?” John asked curiously.

     “You got quite the reception yesterday Watson,” Bowen smiled up at him. “You and Sherlock fly remarkably well together.” John smiled thinking of his dragon and worrying slightly about where he'd gotten off to.

     “It's all him sir,” John chuckled. “I'm just along for the ride.”

     “Well Watson I'd be happy to have you out more often on missions if you'd be interested,” Bowen offered.

     “We'd be happy to sir.” Bowen got to his feet, straightening his jacket and clapping his hands together.

     “If there's anything you ever need, just come ask,” Bowen told him with a smile, pushing the tent flap open to reveal Lestrade there waiting for him.

     “Sir if I may,” John started, making Bowen pause. “I have a dragon question.” Bowen gestured for Lestrade to wait and turned back into the tent. “You see...” John started, struggling how to word his question. “Sherlock is very...tactile.” He cringed at his own words but he'd already gone this far. “Is your dragon the same?” Bowen smiled warmly and chuckled.

     “The thing about dragons is, they're very possessive of what they deem theirs,” Bowen explained. “And to them, we are their most prized possessions. They want to keep us for themselves. I understand Sherlock was going to be put down and that's why you chose him?” John nodded, still taking in everything he'd been told. “Then he feels he owes you his life. He'll protect you till his last breath John. Cherish what you have together.” John nodded again and Bowen took his leave, patting Lestrade's neck affectionately on his way out. There was no one in the medical tent that day so John dragged a chair out front, stretching out and letting the sun warm his tanned skin. He'd almost dozed off when a shadow blocked out his light. He squinted up and smiled at Sherlock who was in his dragon form still. The dragon chirruped, pushing his face into John's hands asking to be scratched and John complied with a chuckle. Once his itch had been sufficiently scratched Sherlock curled up around John's chair to bask in the sun, even letting John prop his feet up along his back.

    The two passed the time together in companionable silence until John's relief arrived, then meandered to the mess tent to grab some dinner. They were stopped several times by people congratulating them still, Sherlock preening at the attention, but still not allowing anyone to touch him. This made John smile softly, it made him feel special that he was the only one allowed to touch the dragon. As he was thinking this, Sherlock pressed into his side, chirruping softly and gestured towards the mess tent.

     “I know, I know,” John chuckled. They were halfway through their meal when Bowen slipped into the seat across from them. John tried to clamber to his feet quickly but Bowen waved his hand, indicating he should sit back down.

     “I've got a mission for you two,” he explained softly. “A private mission.” Sherlock and John glanced at each other and crowded in closer. “It will be just the two of you. There's a package pickup, two days flight from here. I'll provide you with a map to the pickup location. This is confidential boys, no one but us knows about this.” John nodded firmly and Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly. “Pack your overnight bag, you're heading out in the morning.” He got up and disappeared into the crowd as quickly as he'd appeared. John hurriedly ate the rest of his meal, noticing that Sherlock hadn't eaten any more of his and was looking rather put out.

     “Come on,” John said nudging the dragon with a smile. “Let's go pack.” Sherlock snorted in annoyance but got up and headed back towards the tent with John jogging behind him. As soon as they were inside Sherlock was sliding into his human form, turning and piercing John with a glare. 

     “I don't like this,” Sherlock said immediately, putting his hands on his hips. John flushed, scrambling for Sherlock's jumpsuit and trying to hand it to the dragon who knocked it away. “We know nothing about what we're picking up. He's sending us by ourselves. This is dangerous and a death trap.”

     “Sherlock please,” John pleaded, picking up the clothing again. “We'll be fine. Bowen wouldn't send us if he didn't think we could handle it.” He urged Sherlock to take the jumpsuit again and it was snatched out of his hands but Sherlock didn't put it on. He stepped right into John's bubble, glaring down at the soldier in annoyance.

     “I am not immortal John,” he hissed. “I can be killed, there's no guarantee of your protection.” John's whole face was flushed as Sherlock stared down at him and realized he'd gripped the sleeve of John's jacket tightly. “Please do not do this mission,” he pleaded, eyes softening.

     “I...I have to Sherlock,” John stammered. “I can't tell him no, he's my commander.” Sherlock sighed, pressing his forehead against John's, eyes closing.

     “I'll pack the bags,” Sherlock finally grumbled, pulling away and yanking on his jumpsuit. John stumbled back, plopping down into his cot and watching in silence as Sherlock gathered the things they'd need. Not knowing what else to do John grabbed his blanket, curling up and facing the wall of the tent. He might as well get an early night if they were heading out in the morning. He was almost fully asleep when a warm body slid into the cot behind him, nose nuzzling between his shoulder blades. He smiled softly and fell into blissful darkness.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

John and Sherlock were packed up and headed toward the gate before the sun had even risen fully, steps not making a sound. Once they were near the front gate Sherlock kneeled, allowing John to climb into the saddle easily. Seconds later they were in the air, Sherlock gaining height so they could use the cloud cover to hide in. The air was still crisp and cool this early in the morning, but the rising sun promised warmth as John pulled his jacket more tightly around him. Sherlock had looked at the map they'd been given that morning and claimed he had it memorized so John sat back and relaxed, letting the dragon take them where they needed to go.

They'd been flying for hours when John realized they were losing altitude. As they descended from the clouds he noticed the ground below them had become wooded and a misty fog was settled over the tops of the trees. The closer they came to the ground, the muggier it got till John was questioning whether or not he'd be able to remove his jacket without falling off the dragon. Sherlock started a wide circle, descending as if to land and John noticed the small clearing below. When they were about 50 feet above the clearing Sherlock leaned and dove, slamming into the ground and bounding a few paces. John immediately slid from his back, shrugging the jacket off and walking around trying to get his balance back. He felt bow legged from riding for so long and Sherlock chuckled in that chirrupy way of his before shrinking down into his human form. He shook the rest of his harnesses off, digging through one of the bags and pulling out a pair of cargo pants that he yanked on briskly.

“I needed a break,” he explained as he buttoned. “It's been a long time since I've flown this far in one day.”

“ 's all right,” John chuckled. “I needed one too. I'm hungry and gotta pee.” Sherlock's eyes scanned the surrounding area suspiciously before nodding with a grunt. He started digging through their food supplies bag so John wandered off into the woods to find a suitable tree.

He was finishing up when he heard a branch crack behind him. He spun around and let out a yell as he was tackled to the ground by a dragon. He cried out in pain as a clawed foot slammed into his shoulder holding him down. The dragon pulled its head back, flame gathering in the back of its throat and John clenched his eyes closed waiting for the end. Suddenly the weight was knocked off of him and he gasped for air, curling to his side and trying to push himself up. Something was standing over the top of him and he quickly realized it was Sherlock's scaled belly. John could feel the tremors of Sherlock's snarls all the way through his body and almost whimpered in fear. The dragon that had attacked him was getting to its feet a short distance away, shaking its head and pawing at the burnt flesh on its side where Sherlock had struck him with one of his lightning blasts. The dragon was a yellow orange color and had a frill of dark orange spine down its back. It was well fed, John would venture towards chubby and it's dark green eyes regarded them both in annoyance. It started talking in chirrups and whistles, almost seeming to scold Sherlock to which Sherlock stared back in stony silence. Once it was finished Sherlock let out a couple indignant huffs and snorts, slamming his paw on the ground near John. The other dragon snorted but turned and started walking away, limping somewhat and making Sherlock chuckle haughtily.

He finally stepped aside, nuzzling into John gently to see if he was all right. John used his good arm to wrap around Sherlock's neck and be pulled to his feet where he stood with trembling knees for a moment before heading back towards the clearing. Sherlock shrank as they walked, shaking out leathery wings and tucking them neatly against his back. He snatched his discarded pants off the ground nearby, yanked them on and steered John to a tree stump to sit on. John dropped happily to his seat, allowing Sherlock to ease his shirt over his head to better see the wound in his shoulder. It was sore more than anything but there were several puncture marks from the dragons sharp claws. Sherlock went to the medical bag, gathering antibacterial ointment and bandages as John watched him in a daze.

“Did you know that dragon?” he asked suddenly and Sherlock visibly flinched. The dragon made his way back to John, smoothing ointment over the wounds before he answered.

“That was Mycroft,” Sherlock said softly. “He's my brother.”

“Your brother?” John exclaimed and almost fell off his seat if Sherlock hadn't grabbed his arm to steady him. “Why did your brother attack me?”

“Gauging emotional reactions,” Sherlock shrugged. “Assessing weaknesses. The sort of things government officials like to keep track of.”

“You hit him though,” John argued as Sherlock wrapped bandage around him. “Like really badly.”

“Mycroft deserves it,” Sherlock growled.

“If you have a brother, why were you in the dragon center?”

“I don't want to talk about it!” Sherlock snapped, tying the ends of his bandage down a little tighter than necessary and making John wince. “Are you all right now?” he asked, voice softer.

“It hurts,” John mumbled, trying not to sound totally pathetic. Sherlock smiled gently, hand ghosting through John's hair a moment before he was digging through the medical bags again. He came back with a water bottle and a few pain pills, handing them over one at a time.

“Think you can ride?” Sherlock asked after giving John a few minutes. John nodded, accepting Sherlock's help as he wrapped an arm around the man and lifted him gently. John swayed slightly but steadied himself and released Sherlock to stand on his own. He nodded once and Sherlock stepped away, sliding into his natural form and towards his abandoned harnesses. John shook his head to clear it then bent to help Sherlock get into his harness. Sherlock laid all the way down to make it easier for John to climb up and gave him plenty of time to get adjusted before he took off again. He headed back into the cloud cover, wings pumping steadily, trying to fly as gently as possible. John meanwhile was just concentrating on holding on, bending low over the saddle and trying to keep his head clear. He must have hit his head on the ground harder than he'd originally thought. His eyes were getting heavy, the world around him skewing and he vaguely wondered if Sherlock was doing spins through the sky. That couldn't be possible though because he wasn't even holding on to the saddle. The wind was blowing and he turned his face in to it and realized the ground was getting closer. He thought he heard a shriek then it all went black.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Sherlock had never flown as hard as he was flying now, wings pulling at air, diving, paws outstretched desperately for John's falling body. 'The stupid dolt' he growled to himself. 'Should've said he couldn't fly.' Sherlock desperately snapped his wings back, pinning them against his body in a rocketing dive. They were about a hundred feet above the ground when his paw caught a hold of John's jacket and he snapped his wings open. An air current caught him, pushing him higher as he scrambled for a better hold on John. He pumped his wings once, twice, then glided toward the nearest clearing. He dropped John gently to the ground, coming to land a little further forward then rushed toward the prone man, changing as he went. He shrugged the harnesses off and turned John over, pressing his ear to his chest fearfully. “Passed out,” he grumbled, cradling John more gingerly against him. “Stupid idiot.” John's eyes fluttered open at the growl and he looked up at Sherlock in confusion.

“What happened? I thought we were flying,” John muttered, eyes closing again.

“You passed out and fell off!” Sherlock snapped. “You almost died!”

“Oh...” John mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Sherlock shrieked. “You almost die and you're sorry!” John winced, hands moving to massage his temples delicately.

“I didn't realize I'd smacked my head on the ground so hard,” he explained, looking up at Sherlock with wide eyes. “It was your brother that attacked me.” Sherlock huffed, scooping his other arm under John's knees and getting to his feet in one swift movement. John started at the sudden movement and threw his arms around Sherlock's neck to hold on. “W-what are you doing?” John stuttered then flushed when he realized Sherlock was still naked.

“Finding cover so we can set up camp for the night,” Sherlock said simply, heading toward the tree line. John slowly relaxed, leaning his cheek against the dragon's warm shoulder as he walked. Sherlock finally found a cave and kicked some brush into a pile to lay John on, the pine needles forming a cushioned bed. Sherlock sat up him down gently, hand ghosting over his hair. John let his eyes flutter closed and felt the press of lips against his brow before he let sleep take him.

Sherlock made his way back to the mouth of the cave, sliding into his dragon form and taking off back toward the clearing to gather their things.

~*~

When John woke again the sky outside the cave was dark and a fire was burning nearby, warming the small space. Sherlock was in his human form lounging against the rock wall, thankfully wearing clothes again. His blue eyes were watching John carefully, yet he remained completely relaxed. John sat up slowly, glad to see that the dizziness was gone and scooted closer to the fire where a plate of food was waiting for him.

“Thanks,” John mumbled as he started shoveling food into mouth. Sherlock only nodded, eyes closing in contemplation. “What time is it?” he asked after swallowing a mouthful.

“About 4 in the morning,” Sherlock replied without opening his eyes. “We should probably leave soon if you're feeling up to it so we can make up lost time.” John nodded, shoveling the rest of the food in his mouth and getting to his feet to check his balance. He felt a lot better after the rest and food and dug a couple pain pills out to push away the hint of a headache, ignoring the icy eyes watching his every move. He shoved everything back into the bags, securing them closed again and picked up Sherlock's harnesses from nearby.

“Ready to get strapped in?” he asked the dragon who got to his feet and stepped closer. Sherlock moved into John's personal space, staring intently down at him.

“Are you sure you can do this?” he asked John seriously, hand reaching out to run through John's shaggy hair. John found himself leaning into the hand without realizing it and Sherlock smiled softly, thumb stroking the man's cheek bone.

“I'll be okay,” John promised, meeting Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock dropped his hand to John's shoulder, pressed his lips to John's forehead a moment then stepped away, sliding into his dragon form before John had fully realized what had happened. Sherlock stood at the cave entrance waiting patiently for John to put the harnesses on, securing bags and saddle, his cheeks flushed pink. As John climbed up Sherlock swatted their fire out with a smack of his tail and headed out into the night. Once the soldier was situated Sherlock was in the air, enjoying the crisp breeze, wings stretching and pulling rhythmically. John sat comfortably, holding the handle in front of him as they climbed higher. They broke through the clouds and the stars shimmered overhead, giving just enough light to gleam off of Sherlock's dark scales. John ran a hand over the scales absentmindedly and felt the vibration of a pleased purr underneath him. He smiled softly and settled in for a long haul.

~*~

The sun had been up for several hours and was getting close to directly overhead when Sherlock started to descend once more. John peered around curiously as they dropped below the clouds and noticed a small village in the distance.

“Is that where we're going?” John asked. Sherlock chirruped in what sounded like a positive and angled down into his descent. John leaned back, balancing himself in the saddle as Sherlock bounded across the ground, coming to a stop. John slid from his back, shaking out stiff limbs and heading toward the village. Sherlock stuck close to his side, wings hanging half open as if prepared to take off at any moment. As they drew close 3 men appeared on the road at the entrance, standing with crossed arms. John stopped about 20 feet from the men, Sherlock growling softly beside him.

“We're here to pick up a package,” John said loud enough for them to hear. He reached very slowly into his chest pocket for the letter Bowen had given him and held it out for the men to take. The one in the center stepped forward, a sword hanging loosely at his side and snatched the letter from John's hand, eyeing Sherlock nervously.

“Is he tame?” the man asked gruffly, gesturing at the dragon. Sherlock snarled in response, baring his teeth.

“Enough,” John shrugged, patting Sherlock's neck. “Are you going to bring me the package?” The man glanced through the letter a second, then gestured for the two men behind him. They came forward and John realized that one carried a package roughly the size of a melon. John reached out and wrapped his fingers around the string holding the box closed and pulled his hand back quickly. The men didn't move to leave so John backed away, depositing the package in one of Sherlock's packs and tying it closed securely. He stepped into the stirrup and hoisted himself up as Sherlock started backing up. The dragon growled one last time then with a firm flap they shot into the air, gaining altitude quickly.

John relaxed as they ascended into the cloud cover, patting Sherlock's neck comfortingly. “We made it,” he murmured, pressing his hand against the warm expanse of shoulder next to his knee. Sherlock grumbled, the vibration passing through John's hand and making him smile. His joy was short lived as a blast of heat slammed into them and white hot pain shot through his leg. He clutched the handle in front of him as Sherlock shrieked and lurched, wings beating the air frantically as he looked around for their attacker. A jet black streak went flying overhead and Sherlock immediately snapped his wings in, diving away from the danger.

He went careening into the forest canopy, smashing into a thick limb, wings arched back protectively around John. When they finally stopped moving John was barely hanging on to the saddle. Blood was seeping down his leg and Sherlock's scales were scorched with ash around his leg. John carefully slid down on to the wide branch, clinging to Sherlock's harness as he chirruped frantically. Once John was sitting against the trunk Sherlock quickly shrank, wings arching high over his head protectively.

“John!” he squeaked out as soon as he was able, scrambling closer. John smiled dazedly up at the dragon, clutching his leg tightly against him. “let me see,” he said firmly, dragging one of the med packs closer. John's eyes closed tightly, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye. Sherlock pried his hands away and took in the painfully burnt and blistered skin. It was bleeding sluggishly, and the burns were most likely 3rd degree but John would live. He tried not to sigh in relief and instead ripped the rest of the pants leg open, cutting it off above the wound. He found burn ointment next to a bottle of pain medication and handed both over to John along with some clean bandages. “Will you be all right? The dragon asked, getting to his feet and stretching his wings.

“I think so, what are you doing?” John asked, but Sherlock didn't answer only slid into his dragon form, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing up at the sky. He pumped his wings a couple times making sure everything was in one piece then nuzzled against John gingerly. He took one last long look at the soldier then shot into the air, disappearing quickly. John tried not to hyperventilate as he tended to his leg. Sherlock was a more than capable dragon, he'd seen it himself at the camp that the man could hold his own. But now here he was, alone in the jungle, didn't know where the hell he was, with a very injured leg and a still injured shoulder. “Please come back,” he pleaded.

 


	8. Chapter 8

So it's been a really long time guys. I've felt terrible for making you wait but I was going through some stuff and stress and the words don't come when you're feeling so low. Anyways! I moved to a new town, I'm living on my own with my dog and I love this town. It's got everything I love. There's a Barnes & Noble in walking distance people!!!! I've been here a few months now, I absolutely adore my new job, and I'm incredibly happy. So I'm getting back in to the writing spirit, I've posted what I have already written and I started writing some more this afternoon. I'm on call this weekend so I'm stuck at home and I have a writing streak blossoming in my brain.

 

 

~*~

Sherlock scanned the sky, pupils blown wide with adrenaline and lightning crackled over his skin angrily. How dare anyone attack him? They would pay very dearly. He turned in time to see the black streak hurtling towards him and just barely dodged out of the way, shooting an attack after the dragon. The lightning blast struck the other dragon in the wing, knocking him off course and sending him spinning. Sherlock tore after the dragon who was trying to correct his flight, flapping weakly with his injured wing. Sherlock rocketed towards his enemy and slammed into him at full force, taking the dragon down into the jungle. They slammed into the forest floor, Sherlock pressing a clawed paw over the other dragon's throat. A snarl ripped from his throat and the other dragon started to chuckle in a rasping tone.

'Moriarty', he snarled to himself. His brief moment of surprise gave Moriarty the chance to flip him off, flinging him into a wide tree. Sherlock snarled, baring his teeth and blasting another lightning blast at Moriarty who leaped out of the way. His wing was obviously badly injured, it was hanging at his side, flapping weakly. Sherlock smirked feigning an attack to Moriarty's left and when the dragon lurched the other direction he blasted a shot right to his chest, knocking the black dragon back. Moriarty hit the ground and lay still, wings angled oddly behind him. Sherlock snorted, slamming his paws on the ground in a display of dominance and let a roar escape him. Animal instincts satisfied he took off back towards John, worried about his human.

~*~

John was close to drifting off when his branch shook, making him gasp in fear. Sherlock's big head was thrust into his arms, deep purring noises instantly calming him as he stroked the dragon's crest gingerly. Big golden eyes looked up at him, taking in his face and examining his injuries. He chirruped sadly and John shook his head, smiling up at the dragon.

“It's not your fault,” he reassured, he leaned his head forward, resting it against Sherlock's broad muzzle. The dragon started shrinking, pulling John into his arms gingerly, wings wrapping around the two of them. He shifted behind the soldier, drawing him into his lap and cradling him gently. John immediately relaxed against him, nuzzling his face into Sherlock's neck. He quickly fell asleep in the warmth of Sherlock's hold, breathing evening out finally.

Sherlock rocked John gently, nuzzling into his shaggy hair. He felt extremely guilty about everything that had happened to his human. It was his job to protect John and he'd done a spectacular job failing at it. He pulled his wings in tighter around them as rain started falling, keeping John dry and warm. It started raining harder, thunder rumbling and making lightning crackle across his skin. He knew his spines along his back would be glowing if he were in his true form and fought the urge to change and go dance with the storm. John grumbled against him, curling up tighter and wrapping a hand around Sherlock's bicep as if trying to keep him close. He didn't know how long they sat there, but the sky darkened further as the storm raged on. John woke at one point and Sherlock helped him take more pain meds and apply more of the burn ointment. The soldier settled back against Sherlock's chest again, but didn't fall asleep, instead watching the raging storm and the crackle of lightning play across the dragon's skin.

“Should we be leaving?” John asked suddenly, followed by a watery sneeze. Sherlock nuzzled against his hair, tightening his wings around them and nodded slightly.

“Can you ride?”

“I'll tie myself on, I'll be okay,” John chuckled. He pulled out of Sherlock's hold, crawling across the branch to their packs and Sherlock's harness. He extracted some rope and started tying one end around himself, starting when Sherlock was suddenly standing over him in his dragon form. John noticed his back spines were glowing a deep purple, lightning crackling over him and stared in awe a moment before Sherlock chirruped in concern. John shook his head to clear it and finished tying the rope to himself before working to strap Sherlock's harnesses back on him. Just doing that one task had John breathing heavily, leaning against Sherlock in exhaustion, his leg throbbing. Sherlock chirruped again in concern but John shook his head. “Just give me a minute, I'll be fine.” He finally took a deep breath and stepped up into the saddle, swinging himself up quickly. He made quick work of the rope, tying it around the saddle and back to himself snugly and made sure all the packs were secure on the harness, especially the one with the package inside. “Ready,” he finally muttered, patting Sherlock's neck affectionately. The dragon chirruped then pumped his wings and they were clearing the tree tops, John immediately getting soaked in the storm. Sherlock quickly made his way above the clouds and up into the clear evening sky and chirruped in concern as John shook, flinging some of the water off of him. “I'm okay,” John reassured, zipping his coat up further against the cool wind now that he was soaked through. “Fly as long as you can, I'm fine here.” So Sherlock did, taking care to fly as smoothly as possible when John fell asleep across his back. He wanted to get them both back to camp as soon as possible so someone would be able to treat John's injuries.

~*~

When John woke again the sun was rising and he realized his coat was almost completely dry. He sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders to release the tight muscles and looked around curiously.

“Is that camp?” he blanched, seeing a group of buildings and tents in the distance. Sherlock chirruped happily, glancing back at him with one golden eye. “You must have been hauling ass for us to have gotten this far.” The dragon chortled, looking rather proud of himself as they started descending.

Sherlock landed a good ways away from the camp, not wanting a repeat of their previous fight, but didn't stop as he hit the ground. He galloped along the sandy desert, wings tucking against his sides, and made a series of whistles happily. John clung to the saddle wildly for a moment but quickly adjusted the rhythm of his own body to match the swaying movements of the dragon and grinned at the look of joy on Sherlock's face. The gates were opened for them as they neared and Sherlock didn't slow, blowing by the guardsmen and leaving them cursing in his dust. He chortled in amusement and angled towards the medical tent, sliding to a stop in front of a baffled Mike Stamford.

“John?” Mike stuttered, dropping the rolls of bandages he'd been holding. “What happened to you?” He quickly moved to cut the ropes John had tied himself down with, helping the man down and pulling his arm around his shoulder to help him move into the medical tent. John was sat down on a cot and Mike quickly went to work, cutting away the soiled bandages around his leg. Molly was at his elbow in a second, a bowl of clean water in her hands and clean bandages tucked against her side. Sherlock was in the tent a moment later in his human form, a pair of shorts pulled on haphazardly, and the bag with their package tucked under his arm. He sat the bag next to John and took the spot on the other side of the soldier, pressing into his side gently.

“You okay?” he asked softly when John winced. Mike was scrubbing the burn clean, intent on his work so John allowed himself to lean his head into Sherlock's shoulder a moment.

“I'll be fine,” he murmured, patting the dragon's thigh gently. “You got us here so fast there should be hardly any chance of infection.” Sherlock smiled in relief, nuzzling his face against John's a moment and catching the eye of Molly who was watching them with a small smile on her face. She quickly looked away, moving to hold a bandage for Mike as he started wrapping. Sherlock put some distance back between his soldier and himself just as the tent flap was opened with a flourish. Bowen stepped in, looking concerned and quickly waved them off as both soldiers struggled to get up.

“What happened?” he demanded, moving to stand in front of John and Sherlock.

“Ambushed by a dragon sir,” John answered as Mike finished up his wrapping. “Got hit with a fireball when he attacked. I think he must have belonged to the enemy.” Sherlock, who knew exactly who the dragon belonged to, looked down and kept quiet.

“You are one tough son of a bitch Watson,” Bowen complimented, reaching out and squeezing John's shoulder in what was meant to be a show of awe and instead had John gasping in pain and Sherlock snarling at the commanding officer. The dragon was wrapped around John protectively, wings curving around the man and glaring at Bowen fiercely enough to make the general step back. Mike tutted John gently about not telling him about the other injury and sent Molly to get fresh water as Sherlock slowly relaxed his hold and helped John pull the shirt over his head.

“Your package is safe and right there,” Sherlock grumbled when Bowen still hadn't moved to leave, gesturing at the bag on the cot. “Why don't you take what you came for and go?”

“Sherlock!” John reprimanded even as he was wincing in pain. “Don't talk to him like that!” The dragon dropped his gaze submissively, wings drooping, and pressed his forehead into John's bicep that wasn't currently being worked on.

“It's fine,” Bowen chuckled, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “I'll get out of your hair, you need rest and pain meds. Get well soon Watson.” John nodded, giving a shoddy salute and turned his attention back to the dragon that was curled against his side pouting.

“You'll get us both in trouble talking to them like that,” John said gently, stroking Sherlock's curls. “Just watch that tongue okay?” Sherlock nodded like a scolded child as Mike finished up John's shoulder bandage and gave a nod of pleasure at his work.

“We'll get you some pain meds and you can get some much needed sleep,” Mike told him as he took a bottle and syringe that Molly had ready for him. John took the injection without so much as blinking and eased down into the cot gingerly, allowing Sherlock to curl up against him. It didn't take long for the drugs to take effect and he was letting the darkness take him as gentle fingers carded through his hair.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long long delay. Sometimes the words just don't wanna come and I haven't had a good writing mood for a while.

It had been several weeks since Sherlock and John had returned from their mission. Sherlock had remained if possible both incredibly distant but constantly near. The dragon was always within sight, but he remained in his dragon form most of the time, avoiding talking to the soldier. John spent most of his time resting his leg and reading. There was a small collection of books at the camp and it didn't take him long to work through most of them. Sherlock seemed to find the books fascinating and would slide under John's feet and listen to the soldier read aloud. This is when the dragon was most relaxed, eyes heavily lidded and wings drooped across the ground. John was reading rhythmic lines of Thoreau when he was summoned to meet with General Bowen.   
Sherlock seemed perturbed as they made their way to the tent, grunting and huffing, electricity crackling over his scales. It kept stinging John's hand as he was leaning heavily against the dragon to help support his injured leg.  
“Sherlock!” John snapped after the third shock, shaking the numbness out of his hand. The dragon looked sheepish, turning and shoving his muzzle in to John's arms. “Just calm down, okay?” John urged, rubbing between the dragon's eyes. Sherlock finally nodded, turning and continuing towards the general's tent, scales no longer crackling. By the time they reached the tent John was exhausted and sore and Sherlock was chirping worriedly, but the soldier stubbornly kept walking. He rang the bell hanging outside of the tent flap and straightened as best he could, a slight grimace to the corner of his mouth.  
“Come on in,” Bowen called. John entered the tent, glancing back at Sherlock who was sliding in to his human form and yanking a pair of shorts on to follow. To John's surprise General Zane was also seated nearby and he quickly saluted both generals, fighting back against the twinge of pain.  
“Please sit,” Bowen insisted with a smile. “I know you're still healing.”Sherlock entered as John was easing down in to a chair, stretching his leg out in front of him. The dragon grazed his shoulder questioningly and John gave him a tight smile to let him know he was all right.  
“You make an interesting pair,” Zane commented. “You practically treat each other like equals.”  
“I know I'm not nearly as good a fighter as Sherlock,” John began slowly.  
“No,” Zane interrupted. “You treat him as an equal when he is your property.” Sherlock bristled, a low growl coming from the back of his throat. John reached out and wrapped a hand around his forearm to keep the dragon calm.   
“Sir, we're partners,” John started as calmly as he could. “We have to trust each other to work together.” Bowen was smiling softly, hiding it partially behind one of his hands as Zane scowled.   
“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to Bowen, getting to his feet and pacing. “I won't have this mission in the hands of such a soft hearted ninny.”  
“This soft hearted ninny is the only mounted pair you have besides me and I have my own part to play,” Bowen commented idly, picking at one of his nails. “Something to do with soldiers treating their dragons like property or something of the sort.”Zane turned and glared at the other general who acted oblivious.  
“What are you planning?” Sherlock snarled suddenly, eyes narrowing when Zane turned to glare at him.  
“I know you're still recovering,” Bowen started, leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him. “But this is time sensitive and most of it will be mounted work. Are you up for it?”  
“Absolutely not,” Sherlock growled, pacing behind John. “He's not healed enough.”  
“Sherlock,” John sighed, pressing fingers to his temple. “Let's hear what I'd have to do first. If we're riding the whole time I'll have you to take care of me.”Sherlock smirked at that, chest swelling proudly a moment.   
“Or we can just take the dragon with us,” Zane smirked, looking up at Sherlock who's eyes were narrowed dangerously.  
“Sherlock answers to no one but John,” Bowen chuckled. “It's both or neither.”  
“Can we get back to what exactly we'd be doing?” John asked with a sigh.  
“We have property to recover that was stolen,” Bowen explained. “I'll be going in with you with Lestrade. Zane will stay here. I need you to recover the property while I draw everyone away.”  
“You know exactly where this property is? How to get to it?” John asked curiously.  
“Extensively,” Bowen grimaced simply. John wanted to ask more but sensed this was not the place and leaned back with a sigh.   
“When would we leave?” John asked next, ignoring the dragon's huff of annoyance behind him.  
“Tonight, cover of darkness,” Bowen answered quickly, glancing at the still stoic Zane beside him.   
“I guess we should go pack then,” John sighed, getting to his feet slowly. Sherlock scrambled forward to steady the soldier, drawing another snort from general Zane.  
“I'll meet you at the gates at sundown,”Bowen said with a smile, nodding at the two of them. As they exited the tent Sherlock was already sliding in to his dragon form and nosing in to his abandoned harness, pausing so John could tighten the straps. When he was done Sherlock crouched pointedly until John clambered on to the dragon's back.   
“We don't have long to get ready,” John commented idly, mentally going through his list of things to pack and wondering if he could rig some sort of splint for his leg for extra support. Sherlock chuffed softly, making his way back toward their tent.   
He curled up in his corner when they got back, watching silently as John packed then started fiddling around with some long pieces of wood. He snuffled curiously and John smiled up at him sheepishly.   
I was trying to figure out how to give my leg some extra support,” he explained, scratching the side of his head. His hair was getting shaggy, wisps of dirty blonde curling around his ears. Sherlock let out a sigh and slid back in to his human form, grabbing a jumpsuit from nearby and pulling it on up to his waist, tying the sleeves around his hips.  
“Let me see,” he insisted, holding his hand out expectantly. John handed over his shoddy work, blushing slightly as the dragon bent over his leg to work. Sherlock was gentle with him, lifting and moving his leg carefully. He worked in silence for a while, occasionally muttering to himself as John watched. It didn't take long for the dragon to finish and take a step back with a satisfied chirp.   
“It looks great!” John declared, turning his leg this way and that to examine the new splint. It was exactly what he was wanting for some extra protection. “Thanks Sherlock.” He smiled up at the dragon who was blushing from the praise, but snorted and looked away at John's gaze. “It's almost sunset, we should head towards the gate.” John watched Sherlock's shoulders slump and the dragon let out a sigh before changing back in to his dragon form. He helped pull the harnesses over the drake's head and strapped them in to place, attaching his packs.  
Bowen was waiting at the gate, already mounted, Lestrade shifting uneasily beneath him. He had a smear of dark camouflage across his face, expression grim. “Watson,” he greeted simply, turning and walking out the gate. Sherlock glanced back at him uneasily, chirruping softly.  
“Come on, let's get this over with,” John reassured.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished another story I was working on so this is next on the list to finish up. So I'm back on this full time (well, it's my main focus, I do still have to work)
> 
> Getting in to some good action sequences. Thanks for sticking around

They flew for hours, Sherlock's steadily beating wings the only sound in the night. John was stiff and getting tired, hands frozen around the saddle handle and eyes watering. Sherlock chirruped suddenly, drawing John's attention forward to where Bowen and Lestrade had started to descend.

They landed in a dense forest, the dragons dropping in to the upper most branches then slinking down the dense canopy until they could hop to the forest floor. Sherlock immediately changed and to John's surprise so did Lestrade, the dragon changing in to a middle aged man with silver-grey hair and a friendly yet firm expression. He smiled warmly at John and gave Sherlock a look of exasperation as he pulled on a pair of shorts and started digging through a pack. Bowen accepted the map Lestrade handed him and rolled it out on to a nearby rock, gesturing for John and Sherlock. They all gathered around the map of the facility, Bowen pointing out their route, where they'd find the package they were picking up, and the way they should get out so as to not be seen. He vaguely pointed out where he and Lestrade would be providing the distraction, warning them to stay far away from that area.

“We'll meet back here at this spot. If I don't show up after 3 hours then you're to return without me with the package,” he commanded sternly. “Do not try and come back for us.” John gulped but nodded, feeling Sherlock press against him in comfort. “Now get some rest,” he urged, peering through the trees at the rising sun. “We'll stay here and at sundown we head in. I'll take the first watch.”

John laid out the thin bedroll he'd brought under a large shady tree, smiling at Sherlock as he shifted and curled around him protectively. His huge head lay beside his own and John found himself tracing over the pebbled skin on his cheek. Sherlock purred, nuzzling in to the hand a moment, then flicked the blanket over John with a whip of his tail. John chuckled and wiggled in to a comfier position and tried to get some rest.

 

~*~

 

John tried to get some rest, he really did, but he woke frequently, usually from nightmares and his hand sought out the dragon without realizing it. Sherlock was always there, pressing in to his reaching hand and chirping worriedly until John calmed. The dragon hadn't slept at all he realized when they went to relieve Bowen and Lestrade.

John balked a little when they rounded the corner and found the general with Lestrade still in human form nuzzled under his arm. John coughed a little and Bowen turned to glance at him with a smile.

“Couldn't sleep?”

“Not very well,” John admitted, watching the general press a kiss to the top of Lestrade's head as he slipped out of his hold and stretched. Lestrade didn't say anything, just slipped in to his natural form and ambled towards the shady tree.

“Wake me at sunrise then,” Bowen yawned, patting John on the shoulder as he walked by. John settled himself on the abandoned rock, smiling when Sherlock joined him in human form.

“You didn't sleep at all did you?” John asked.

“John I am a dragon,” Sherlock huffed. “I can go a very long time without sleep.” John chuckled and settled in to a companionable silence with the dragon leaning against him. They spent the rest of the daylight hours like that, only getting up to make a small meal and relieve themselves. When it was getting close to dark Sherlock went to wake the general and Lestrade as John started gathering their things and putting only the necessary things in their packs. The rest he sat against the base of a nearby tree to hide under some branches. He wanted Sherlock to be as unburdened as possible for this mission, especially since there wouldn't be much room inside the compound anyways. The dragon sidled back up next to him, rubbing against him like a cat and allowing the doctor to put his harness back on.

Bowen started pulling out some breakfast for them to split as he started attaching Lestrade's harness, granola bar in his mouth as he worked. He followed John's lead, tossing the things they wouldn't immediately need in the pile and dragging some branches over it all for camouflage.

The sun dropped below the horizon as they swung in to their saddles, John adjusting his splint in to the makeshift rig and nodding at Sherlock's questioning look. They stayed on the ground as they approached, the dragons slinking like snakes through the trees.

The compound was huge and John swallowed nervously as Bowen gestured at him and then slipped off in to the night towards his destination. Sherlock waited several moments before descending towards where they would be picking up their package. His wings were tight against his sides and over John's legs and the doctor could feel how tense the dragon's body was. He rubbed over Sherlock's shoulder gently to reassure him and felt him relax a fraction. They crouched behind a retaining wall and waited, John laying flat across the dragon's back until they heard the boom and crumbling of a wall being blown to bits. Alarms started going off and John could see people running toward the commotion when he peered over the wall. He patted Sherlock's shoulder when the coast seemed clear and the dragon launched up and over the wall, running towards where they'd enter the building. A small puff of one of Sherlock's lightning balls fried the opening mechanism on the door and the dragon shoved it open with a creak, barely squeezing through the door. The halls were dark except for some ominous red emergency lights high on the ceiling. Sherlock's eyes were glowing slightly in the dark as he looked around then took off down the hall. The halls were wide enough for the dragon to move down, but if he had to turn around for any reason it was going to be a struggle John was realizing.

By John's remembrance of the map they should be reaching the area where the item was kept here soon when a shout came from behind them. Sherlock chirruped and like John was guessing, struggled to turn around in the narrow hall. He could see guards coming, swords raised and yelped when Sherlock shifted beneath him. John hit the ground rather hard but struggled to get back to his feet, reaching for his dagger. The dragon stepped between them though, wings stretched protectively and a snarl ripped through the man. The first guard lunged wildly and Sherlock sidestepped him slightly, grabbing the hand holding the sword and knocking him in the back of the head with his other hand. He tossed the man aside with ease, sword still in hand and turned to face the other guards who looked a little more worried now that the humanoid dragon had a sword in hand. John watched Sherlock grin then spin in to the first attack, driving the man back, parrying every blow he tried then knocking him in the side of the head with the flat of his blade. John didn't know it was possible for the dragon to be much more impressive than he already was, but as he stood there gaping at the dragon taking on all four of the guards at once, sword swinging gracefully, he smiled softly.

Sherlock managed to knock them all out, hurrying back towards John and grabbing up the only pack they'd brought and shoving it in to the soldier's arms.

“We don't have time for the harness,” Sherlock explained quickly. “You're just going to have to hold on.”

“Wait what?” John sputtered, but the dragon was already shifting and crouching expectantly. John climbed up slowly, settling in front of the dragon's wings and tightening his knees the best he could. Sherlock didn't give him much adjustment time and took off, trying to keep his gait easy. John grabbed on to a couple of his back spines to hang on, knees squeezing for dear life as they made their way to the large doors. John slid down from the dragon's back and pulled the door open a crack, peering inside. He couldn't see anyone so he pulled it open the rest of the way for the dragon to enter, walking next to him to the room Bowen had indicated. The walls were glass and John could see a pedestal in the room, fog obscuring the item inside. They ducked behind a desk as a couple scientists walked in to the room, talking quickly to each other.

“Zane wants this done as soon as possible!” one of them exclaimed and John could see a syringe in his hand. “He wants it ready for the siege in a couple months.”

“This is wrong,” the other was arguing. “They're already powerful, why these experiments?”

“He wants a completely obedient killing machine,” the first argued, injecting the syringe in to a port that led in to the pedestal. “If you want to keep this job you better keep your mouth shut.” They left the room again and John looked around carefully before hurrying towards the glass doors, Sherlock shuffling behind him.

He slipped through the doors by himself, Sherlock unable to fit and started looking around for a release switch for the glass cover. Growing frustrated he grabbed the microscope off the counter nearby and heaved it above his head, bringing it crashing in to the cover. Glass shattered all around him but surprisingly no alarm went off. As the fog cleared John realized it was an egg and heard Sherlock let out a shrieking moan that had the hair on his arms standing up. John snatched the egg, hurrying back towards the dragon who looked very upset. He was shifting and agitated, eyes glancing around rapidly.

“Easy,” John soothed, tucking the egg in to his pack and slinging it across his back. “Let's get out of here first.” Sherlock nodded slightly, crouching so John could climb up then took off towards the way they'd been instructed to leave. As they entered the hall that was suppose to be their escape route they ran in to a group of guards all brandishing swords. Sherlock let out a shriek, lightning crackling over his scales and making John's hair stand up. “Sherlock....” John said uneasily, but the dragon was past reason. A lightning blast sent half the guards flying and Sherlock dove in to the rest of them fervently, tail whipping and jaws snapping. One of their swords hit Sherlock's shoulder incredibly close to John's leg and in a second the guard was dead, hanging limp from the dragon's jaws. “Sherlock!” John cried out. “Let's go!” Ahead of them he could see flames licking the walls and the area was filling with smoke. John hazarded a glance back and could see flames in the direction of the lab too. Sherlock must have noticed the flame because he let out a shriek, knocking the remaining guards over with a swing of his tail and taking off again. John clung as hard as he could, body flat against the dragon's as they sprinted toward the doors that were engulfed in flame. Sherlock roared and John almost was jarred off as the dragon slammed in to the flaming doors, sending them flying open. Sherlock barely slowed, exiting in to the fresh air and wings extending beside John. “Wait...Sherlock!” John cried out, but the dragon launched in to the air and he had to wrap his arms completely around Sherlock's neck to stay on. The dragon got to a decent height and flapped listlessly, looking down at the flaming facility. John sat up a little to look too, worried about Bowen and Lestrade. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at something and John tried to follow his gaze but the dragon turned and headed back toward the rendezvous point.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day, you lucky ducks. The words are flowing

Sherlock landed in the small clearing, John barely sliding from his back before he was shifting and storming towards the hidden packs. He started digging through everything and tossing things aside in to a pile then started going through Bowen's packs as well.

“Sherlock what is going on? What was all that about?” John demanded, yanking the pack out of his hands. When Sherlock's gaze snapped back up at him his eyes were glowing gold, the dragon barely contained beneath this human guise.

“Those....creatures!” he spat, fingers curling in front of him and John watched his claws lengthen slightly. Sherlock was barely under control, his whole body shaking. The soldier took a step back fearfully and Sherlock's shoulders dropped slightly, claws shortening. “They're experimenting on children John. As if capturing and enslaving dragons wasn't enough, they're performing experiments on our children! Trying to make us more obedient, just soulless killing machines.” He looked sad now and when he looked up at John his eyes were that icy blue again.

“We can talk to Bowen, try to figure out what's happening?” John suggested softly and Sherlock bared his teeth in a snarl.

“I will not go back there John!” he growled. “Zane is behind this all, you heard them! I will not go back!” His eyes were shifting gold again and John surged forward, grasping Sherlock's face between his hands.

“Okay! Okay....” he soothed, thumbs grazing over the startled dragon's cheek bones. “We won't go back. What do we do?” Sherlock nuzzled in to John's hand, eyes closing a moment.

“We'll take the egg, go off the grid. Maybe I'll be able to find Mycroft and have him take her, keep her safe.” His eyes were glazing over, lost in thoughts and plans.

“Sherlock,” John interrupted, drawing the dragon's gaze back to him. “How are we going to survive out here? The army will search for us.”

“I can hunt for game, I can teach you edible plants. We can forage. As for the army...” his gaze darkened. “I'll take care of them.” The dragon shifted forward, pressing a kiss to John's temple, then spun and went back to his previous task digging through the packs. John sighed but bent to start packing all the items Sherlock had selected in to a single pack. They wouldn't be able to take much with them without the harness to secure packs so John made sure to pack the bag as snugly as possible. When he stood back up from his stooped position Sherlock was right behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist, drawing him back gently against him.

“I'm sorry John,” he said softly against his ear. “I'm sorry you ended up with me and that I don't make things easy.” He squeezed John a little tighter, lips grazing his earlobe. He let out a breath like he was going to say something more but pulled away, leaving John's hair prickling with static. He shifted in to his natural form, shaking his wings out and John noticed the scorch marks around his shoulders and across his wings.

“Sherlock,” John scolded softly, fingers grazing the marks at his shoulder. The dragon snorted, pushing past him and crouching so John could climb on. He grumbled to himself but gathered the pack he'd been working on, moving the egg to the new pack on the very top and packed clothes around it gently. Sherlock watched him curiously, gaze soft, and let John take his time climbing and settling himself on to the dragon's back. The soldier patted his neck when he was ready and Sherlock leapt in to the nearest tree to climb up and out. John clung to the dragon's neck as they climbed, keeping himself flat until they reached the top of the canopy where Sherlock paused a moment, branch swaying beneath his weight. They looked toward the compound, black smoke filling the air, almost every building burning hot and bright. Sherlock chuffed softly, then raised his wings, giving John a chance to wrap around his neck again.

They climbed until they were above the clouds and smoke, Sherlock leveling out and allowing John to sit up a bit. The air was cool but refreshing, the moon a sliver above them and the stars gleaming gently. The dragon beneath him settled in to an easy pace, mostly gliding with the occasional flap of wings. John reached in to his jacket pocket and pulled out the tube of ointment he'd sequestered there and squeezed out a decent amount, looking for the worst of the spots first. When the cool balm touched Sherlock's pebbled skin, he jerked slightly, glancing back at John in question then his eyes closed and he let out a purring moan, shoulder shifting and pressing in to the soldier's hand.

“I knew you were hurting you stubborn ass,” John scolded with a laugh, putting a small amount on the other shoulder that wasn't as badly burnt. He couldn't do as much as he wanted, they'd have to be careful with their supplies. Sherlock chirruped his thanks, then focused back on their path, John settling in to place.

They flew for hours, until the sun was rising, before Sherlock started to descend. John was surprisingly comfortable still. Riding without the saddle did have some benefits. He found a cave near a waterfall and landed by the river, letting John slide off as he drank. The soldier wandered around, examining their surroundings and nodded with satisfaction, jumping a bit when Sherlock bumped his head under John's arm. The sun was rising beautifully over the tree tops and John stood there for a while, just watching it, the dragon pressed against his side.

Finally he headed towards the cave, needing some rest. He pulled the egg out of his pack first, sitting it in a cushion of clothes carefully before digging for something for them to eat. Sherlock was ambling around, shoving rocks in to a small circle with his nose then startled John when he let out a puff of lightning, making the stones glow white hot and sizzle. He looked pleased, then grabbed the egg gently from where John had put it and placed it in the little nest. John watched in amusement, chewing on a granola bar as the dragon fretted, pushing rocks closer and adjusting the egg until he was happy and wandered back towards him.

“We don't have a lot of food with us, this was suppose to be a quick run,” John said softly, laughing when Sherlock rubbed so hard against him he almost fell over. The dragon snuffled at the stuff that John had pulled out, shoving the fire starter towards him then ambled out of the cave and took off. John looked at the fire starter, the egg, then back towards where the dragon had disappeared. “Well okay then.”

 

~*~

 

When Sherlock finally returned a couple hours later John had a roaring fire going and had even heated up some stones to trade out of the egg's nest. Sherlock chirruped happily at that and dropped the deer he'd killed at the entrance to the cave. He changed as he walked, scooping up the shorts John had left out for him and ruffling his golden hair. He yanked them on quickly, the waist band hanging lower on his hips than usual and went to check on the egg.

“You're not eating enough,” John scolded as he brushed his hands off and got to his feet. He searched around for his knife, heading towards the deer. “You're losing too much weight. You look like you did when I found you.” A hand grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him back, throwing him off balance. Sherlock grinned down at him from his awkward dipped position, a smear of blood across one cheek.

“I did catch a deer tonight,” he smirked, giving John's nose a quick peck and sitting him back up right. “Don't you worry about me, I'm...”

“A dragon! Yes I'm aware,” John grumbled, cheeks flush as he went back to his task. Sherlock chuckled but grabbed another knife to go help. John skinned while Sherlock gutted, setting aside the liver for himself when John made a face at him. While John went out to bury entrails, Sherlock started dicing up chunks of meat, tossing them in to a small pot they had then on to a clean stone. John came back with a tangle of vines and while Sherlock was cooking chunks of meat he started to weave them together in to a sort of basket. When he ran out of vine he had half of a decent sized basket made and seemed pleased. Next he went and gathered several wide flat stones and set them up along the edge of the fire where they would get warm but not hot then started cutting strips of meat and laying it out on to the rocks.

“It'll dry them out and create jerky,” he explained at Sherlock's curious gaze. “It lasts longer.” He filled the rocks with meat, traded out a few of the stones he'd set aside for the egg, then settled down next to the dragon who handed him a plate of food. John ate sleepily, his eyes half lidded and he started to lean in to Sherlock until he was snoring softly, plate tipping dangerously. The dragon chuckled, taking the plate and setting it aside before easing John down and cushioning his head on a thick sweater. He found the soldier's blanket and lay it over him, then slipped in to his natural form, winding his body around John and his tail around the egg's nest. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to post again for a few days because of work so here's a little more because I was on a role today. Also SMUTTY SMUT SMUT. But I'm also a dick about it, so you get what you get lol

John woke before the dragon, warm against his belly, the fire just coals. He got up enough to stir up the fire and throw a couple logs on, then settled back against the dragon comfortably. Sherlock let out a long huff of air, tail tightening around the egg and one large paw scratching lazily. John smiled despite their circumstances, never would he have thought that this is where he'd end up in a few short months. He finally got to his feet thinking of all the things that needed done, first trading stones out for the egg, being careful not to step on the twitching tail. He gathered up all the meat that had dried while they slept, putting most of it in his makeshift basket and pocketing a few pieces for himself. He laid out more strips to dry on the stones then a change of clothes and headed out to the river. It was warm out and looked to be around 4 in the afternoon as he stripped out of his dirty jacket and fatigues and slipped down in to the frigid water. He found a pool where the water wasn't moving as quickly that went up to his waist and scrubbed at his arms and chest until he was pink and clean once more. He dunked his head quickly, scrubbing at his curls until they felt less gritty then looked up and realized he had a visitor. Sherlock had woken up and was laying on the river bank watching him, head cocked curiously.

“Peeping tom,” John muttered, sticking his tongue out at the dragon. He finished cleaning up then climbed out of the river, smirking at Sherlock's widening eyes. He dried off quickly, shrugging in to a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, the shirt clinging slightly to his damp skin. The dragon's tail was smacking the ground lightly, a small stream of smoke coming from his nostrils as he got up, wings raising slightly. “What are you...” he started then gasped as he was tackled to the ground.

Sherlock was hotter than he'd ever felt before and nuzzled in to his neck, purring happily. He started to shift which was very strange when the dragon was on top of him and John turned bright red when he had a very naked Sherlock crouched over him, smoke still trailing from the corner of his mouth. His pupils were still cat-like in his blue eyes, wings widening in an impressive display. “Mine,” he growled lowly, bending and kissing John possessively. The soldier moaned, opening his mouth to that talented forked tongue and felt Sherlock's hardened length press against his leg. He was rutting slowly and languidly against his thigh, slightly clawed hands running down his sides and then grabbing his hip. John pulled away to gasp for air and Sherlock moved to his neck, lapping, sucking, and biting at every inch of skin he could find. His teeth had sharpened so the occasional nip made John gasp and his hips would surge up in to the dragon's, making him growl.

John was flush and about to let the dragon do whatever he wanted when Sherlock suddenly stopped, head cocking. He glanced up toward the sky, then leapt to his feet, dragging John with him and towards the tree line. The doctor grunted as he was shoved up against a tree, Sherlock pressing up against him and surrounding them with his wings. “Sher...” he started and the dragon pressed a hand over his mouth, eyes still focused upward. John quieted, wrapping his arms around the dragon's waist and following his gaze up. A shadow flickered through the canopy and the dragon pulled him closer, tucking John's head under his chin after releasing his hold over his mouth. John saw the shadow a few more times, slowly moving away from them. They stayed like that for at least another half hour after John had seen the last shadow and he'd started to drift off against Sherlock's chest when the dragon nudged him gently.

“Let's go,” he urged, pulling on John's hand. The doctor stumbled after the still naked dragon, blushing when they passed the spot where John had been tackled and well....other things. Sherlock lead him quickly back to the cave, finding his shorts and pulling them on and adjusting the stones around the egg. John sat to rotate his drying meat, avoiding looking up at the dragon until he stopped right in front of him. Sherlock finally squatted in front of him, hand reaching out to cup his face and rub through his hair. “I'm sorry if I upset you,” he said softly. John immediately shook his head, grasping at the hand in his hair.

“No...no,” he stuttered, looking up at the dragon's sad eyes. “I was...enjoying it.” Sherlock smiled, slinking forward until John was caged in his arms, pressing a slow kiss to the doctor's lips. John moaned in to the kiss, tangling his fingers in dark curls, but Sherlock pulled away, pecking him on the nose gently.

“I have to go check out the area,” he said regretfully, eyes still glancing at John's red swollen lips. “Make sure the coast is clear.” But he leaned forward again, kissing John again a little more forcefully and cradling the doctor's head in one hand. When he pulled away this time gold was circling his pupils, teeth sharp.

“Uh Sherlock,” John coughed, eyes big and slightly worried. The dragon pulled back, his arousal evident through the thin shorts and shook himself slightly.

“Right...” he mumbled to himself. “Patrol. I'll be back by nightfall.” John watched the dragon drop his shorts, struggling a little, then shift awkwardly and head out of the cave.

“Well,” he huffed, glancing at the egg. “That was interesting.”

 

~*~

 

When Sherlock got back to the cave John had fallen asleep, a new ration of meat drying and the basket quite full. The deer was starting to stink so he shoved the rest out of the cave and let the river take it away. The egg was toasty warm so he left it as it was and shifted back to two legs, gathering his discarded shorts that John had picked up and folded neatly on their pack. The doctor was shivering slightly despite his proximity to the fire and the blanket he was curled up in so Sherlock moved to lay behind him, gathering man and blanket against him and wrapping a wing around them both. John wiggled against him, sighing softly, then went back to his soft snoring, a smile on his face. Sherlock smirked to himself, burying his nose in soft golden curls.

“Ghivashel,” he muttered, eyes closing and letting sleep take him.

 

~*~

 

When John woke the next morning he finally felt fully rested and ready to face whatever they needed to do. Sherlock however, was buried rather awkwardly against his back, face between his shoulder blades and legs tangled together. “Sherlock,” John whispered, shaking the dragon's arm that was wrapped around his waist gently. The dragon snorted, head raising quickly and looking around for trouble. John laughed at the dragon's mussed curls and confused expression, sitting up and smoothing his own hair down. Sherlock looked perturbed at his laughter, expression cross and without much warning put a hand over his face and shoved him down. John yelped then felt the dragon settle over him, chest warm. He lifted his hand enough to uncover John's mouth and pressed a heated kiss to the doctor's lips until John was breathless and panting. He leaned down, pressing his lips to John's ear and let out a stream of hot air.

“I'm going to bathe,” he breathed, then got to his feet in one fluid movement, wings tucking against his back as he headed toward the entrance. John lay there panting a moment and face flushed before sitting up and tucking his erection in to his waist band.

“Fucking dragons,” he grumbled. He switched out stones for the egg, put the last of the meat in to their basket and resolved to gather more vines today. He knew the dragon wanted him to come join him, so he resolved to get revenge and leave him shivering in the water for as long as possible.

When he finally left the cave, he headed immediately in to the trees, not even looking toward the river, to go relieve himself. He took his time and was zipping up his fly when he heard the crunch of a stick behind him. “I suppose you're quite irate with me, serves you right,” John taunted with a smirk, turning and immediately going pale. A dark green dragon was standing there, eyes narrowed and wings slightly raised. His chest and neck were glowing gently like he was ready to attack at any second. “Easy,” John said softly, putting his hands up. He heard Sherlock roar from the river and when the dragon turned it's head he took off in the opposite direction, shoving through vines and brambles and feeling thorns cutting at his arms and legs. “Fuck,” he hissed when one caught him under the eye. He cried out when he was struck from behind, a hundred slices like papercuts through his clothes. He hit the ground hard and curled in to a ball, choking back a sob. The green dragon came up on him, nosing him as if to make sure he was still alive. John groaned, his wounds bleeding sluggishly, then heard the crashing of something else coming towards him.

“John!” he heard Sherlock yell as the man came stumbling towards them. The doctor glanced up enough to see his dragon shove at the green one with a snarl, intimidating even in his human form. Mycroft was walking more sedately behind him, still in dragon form and fixed the dragon that had attacked him with a glare. Sherlock knelt down next to him, afraid to touch, eyes half gold with rage. “Let's get you back to the river,” he choked, taking him by the forearms. His back and calves seemed to have gotten the worst of the lacerations, but he cried out as he was pulled to his feet, the cuts stretching and bleeding more. “I know John, I know,” Sherlock was hissing in sympathy. “Do you want me to carry you?” John looked torn, he knew it would hurt, but walking like this would take forever and probably hurt just as much in the long run. He finally nodded and set his jaw as Sherlock bent, scooping behind John's knees and around his back. The doctor cried again when he was lifted, leaning his head heavily against the dragon's chest and gasping for breath.

Sherlock's eyes were rimmed with gold as they walked back to camp, his teeth sharp and worrying at his lip. The green dragon with Mycroft hung back pretty far, not wanting to aggravate Sherlock more than he already was. When they reached the river Sherlock sat him down right on the edge of the pool he'd used yesterday, slicing through the back of John's shirt with one sharpened claw. John cringed as it was peeled away, blood had already started to dry, sticking in the cuts. “Come on,” he urged, splashing down in to the water clothes and all. He stepped between John's legs and helped him ease in to the water, letting him squeeze his forearms tightly when the frigid water hit the open wounds. “Turn,” he urged, easing him around and letting him lean against the bank.

“Sherlock I don't really have time for this,” a deep aristocratic voice sighed. Sherlock snarled at the man, wings flaring slightly in challenge. John glanced up and was surprised that Mycroft looked completely human. He didn't carry wings on his back like Sherlock and no horns were nestled in his hair. He was like a serpent, a roiling predator hidden and ready to strike. To John's amusement he did have a bit of a belly and in his slightly delirious state he laughed a little. Mycroft looked very annoyed, glaring down at the doctor. Sherlock chuckled behind him, hands still smoothing cold water over the cuts and cleaning them.

“Your lackey attacked what is mine,” Sherlock grumbled. “You will wait until I am done caring for him.” Mycroft turned and glared at the dragon who was staying in his natural form a good distance away. “I do need you to do something for me though.”

“Oh this should be most interesting,” Mycroft drawled, swinging his umbrella.

'Where had he gotten an umbrella?' John thought and started giggling again.

“Okay I think that's enough time in the cold water,” Sherlock grumbled, climbing up the bank and helping John up. The cold water had numbed his back completely so Sherlock was able to scoop him up and carry him up in to the cave. He sat him next to the fire, digging through packs until he found a change of clothes and a small towel and tossed them over near John.

“Sherlock what is that?” Mycroft demanded from the cave entrance, gesturing at the egg with his umbrella and making John giggle again.

“That's what I want to talk to you about, but it will wait a moment,” Sherlock snapped, rubbing the towel through John's hair and over his face. “Dry,” he told John firmly, handing him the towel and going back to their pack. He found John's med kit and brought it back with him, settling on the ground behind the doctor. John took the water and pain meds Sherlock handed him without another word, going back to his job of drying off. Mycroft settled himself on a rock with a huff, eyeing the egg with curiosity. Once he'd settled the human back between his legs and had ointment in hand he finally looked up at Mycroft.

“You really care about this doctor,” Mycroft commented, glancing at John half asleep and propped up against their pack and a thick wooly blanket.

“He is my ghivashel,” Sherlock muttered, smoothing ointment over John's back and missing the look of surprise on Mycroft's face.

“That is...unusual,” he commented. Sherlock glared at him, continuing his work until John's entire back was covered. “You never showed interest in any I showed you before...”

“They were not John,” Sherlock snapped, teeth bared in a snarl. “He took me out of that wretched place you put me in.”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft sighed. “I put you in a recovery facility, you put yourself there when you attacked an intern.”

“I was understandably upset about being put in a recovery facility. There was nothing wrong with me.”

“Sherlock you weren't bonded with anyone, you were becoming hostile,” Mycroft explained probably for the hundredth time, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sherlock didn't say anything more, just adjusted John's head so his face wasn't smashed in to the blanket, fingers ghosting through the blonde curls.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also for those of you not in to khuzdul lol  
> ghivashel- treasure of treasures
> 
> I thought it was a fitting term of endearment/name for a mate for a dragon, no? also a subtle/not so subtle reference to Smaug


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short, but it's something.

John woke a few hours later, his back throbbing, and blinked blearily at his surroundings. He was propped up on the pack, fire burning, and nearby he could hear soft voices. He tried to sit up a little and hissed at the pain, fingers clenching in the canvas in front of him. The voices stopped and Sherlock slipped in to the cave and towards the med pack sitting near him, digging for more of the pain medication.

“Need ta...save it....” John hissed, pushing the dragon's hand away.

“Your back is in shreds,” Sherlock growled softly. “I think this warrants using some.” John shook his head again, letting his face flop in to the wadded up blanket. He heard the dragon sigh and shuffle closer, fingers running through his hair gently. “Mycroft can bring us more supplies,” he offered this time. “Please take these.” John rolled his head enough to peer at his dragon with one eye, seeing how it pained him to even suggest asking his brother for help. He held out his hand finally, taking the pills Sherlock dropped there and popping them in to his mouth, followed by a swig of water that the dragon offered him next. “Do you want to change position? Maybe lay on your belly for a while?” John thought for a moment then finally nodded, sitting up with a cringe and letting Sherlock help ease him down.

Once he was settled, the blanket under his chin, Sherlock lay down next to him, curled on his side and facing him. He didn't touch John except to wind their fingers together, face carefully blank.

“What's going on with Mycroft?” John asked softly, squeezing Sherlock's fingers to get his attention.

“He's going to take the egg...keep her safe,” he said softly, blue eyes still distant.

“And what about us?”

“We have to stay off the grid a while longer. Mycroft says the army is still searching. They found my harness at the facility so they're assuming we're dead but they can't declare it for sure until they complete their search.”

“Okay,” John said simply. Sherlock's eyes darted to his, searching, assessing. “This is fine,” John reassured. “I'm fine. We'll do something to stop Zane's mad experiments.” Sherlock smiled softly, nuzzling their tangled hands.

“You should rest,” he suggested. “I'm going to finish sorting things out with Mycroft.” John made a face but nodded, letting go of the dragon's hands as he got up.

John didn't go back to sleep but lay there and listened to the brothers arguing softly with each other. Across from him, the egg was still in it's nest, stones glowing softly with heat around her. He started thinking about plans, what they could do to stop Zane, then cursed himself for slowing them down. Why had he run? If he'd just stayed still, he'd be fine. He got angrier at himself the longer he laid there until he was shoving himself to his hands and knees with a grimace. Trying to keep quiet so Sherlock wouldn't hear him. He was tired of being a burden to the dragon. Finally, he managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly, and took a few steps towards the entrance. His vision started to darken around the edges and he tried to push past it, and groaned when it tunneled worse. “Fuck...” he moaned as he started to fall.

 

~*~

 

“John! John!” Sherlock was screeching, smacking his face lightly. John groaned, head shifting from where it was pressed against bare skin. “What were you doing?” he demanded, voice still too high pitched and loud.

“Shh,” John whispered, one hand going to his temple and the other pressing over Sherlock's mouth. The dragon glared at him but didn't say anything more, helping the doctor sit up gingerly. “Help me up.”

“You need to rest,” Sherlock argued, voice softer this time.

“Sherlock now,” John growled, starting to get up himself. The dragon grumbled but helped him to his feet, steadying him as he latched on to Sherlock's forearms. John stood there for several minutes with his eyes closed, swaying slightly, grip tight. Slowly he opened his eyes, focusing on the gentle rise and fall of Sherlock's chest and his grip loosened.

“John....” Sherlock questioned worriedly.

“I can do it,” John grunted stubbornly, letting go of the dragon.

“This is stupid,” the dragon snarled, hovering close as he took one step then another.

“I'm tired of being a burden!” John snapped finally, turning to glare at the dragon and loosing his balance. Sherlock caught him gently, looking down in confusion. John's eyes had brimmed with tears and his grip on the dragon's arms was tight. “You're always taking care of me, I'm always getting hurt. You get hurt and you just shake it off and go on being amazing. And don't you 'I'm a dragon' me, god dammit,” he interrupted when Sherlock opened his mouth.

“I am a dragon though John as much as that annoys you,” Sherlock snapped, easing John down to the ground again. “We are bigger, stronger, more resilient, and faster than anything a human could be capable of. When you surround yourself by dragons, yes, you will get hurt. Yes you will appear weak. Because in comparison to me, you are. But if you compare yourself to your fellow humans, you are quite extraordinary. I mean for fuck's sake your back is in ribbons and you're trying to refuse pain medication and walk about like nothing is wrong. You're amazing John and for the love of all things shiny will you just lay down and let yourself heal....please.” He brushed the doctor's tears away with the pad of his thumb, leaning forward and kissing his brow gently. John finally nodded and accepted the soft kiss to his lips with a hum of pleasure. “That's my ghivashel,” Sherlock smiled, nuzzling against John's cheek. He helped the doctor lay back down on his belly and proceeded to work ointment in to the expanse of his back, hands gently kneading until John was blinking sleepily and quite relaxed.

“Sorry,” John mumbled through a yawn.

“Go to sleep John,” Sherlock chuckled.

 

 


End file.
